


Pride and Prejudice

by SkyFireForever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Agender Feuilly, Asexual Enjolras, Deaf Azelma, Demigirl Joly, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Genderfluid Jean Prouvaire, M/M, Multi, Non-Binary Joly, Pride, Trans Azelma, Trans Courfeyrac, Trans Enjolras, Trans Marius
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyFireForever/pseuds/SkyFireForever
Summary: Grantaire had never been to Pride and he had never particularly wanted to. He thought the entire concept wasn’t one that he agreed with. This opinion wasn’t an easy one to have when surrounded by people who were all heavily invested in the Pride spirit. Grantaire loves his friends and he would do anything to support them, so he allows himself to be dragged along to his first ever Pride with Les Amis.Written for Barricade Day, even though I’m a little late.





	Pride and Prejudice

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Barricade Day and for Pride! It's a little late, but eh. Please enjoy!

Grantaire had never really been into the whole “Pride” thing. It had just never caught his interest. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his identity, not at all. He’s accepted himself as bisexual at the age of fourteen, so being closeted wasn’t the issue. On the contrary, he was comfortable enough with his identity that he didn’t understand the need to parade it around. 

Pride never really made any sort of sense to Grantaire. As someone who was relatively new to the LGBTQ “community”, he had never been to Pride before or had known anyone who participated. The entire concept of Pride seemed rather counterproductive in his opinion. The LGBT community claimed to want equality; and yet, they celebrated a time when the entire purpose is to separate that community from others. If they truly desired equality, shouldn’t they not want to draw attention to their differences the way they do during Pride?

He wouldn’t dare express those opinions, though. Especially not here or now, when all of his friends, the members of Les Amis de l’ABC, were chattering excitedly about plans for the “big event” with Grantaire’s boyfriend at the helm. Grantaire wasn’t particularly surprised, Les Amis were an activist group comprised mostly of individuals whose identities were tied heavily with the LGBTQ community. 

“...and Grantaire can ride either with us or with you.” Grantaire was pulled from his daydreaming by Joly speaking his name. He glanced over to see Joly sitting at a small table, in deep conversation with Enjolras. The two of them were clearly discussing transportation in regard to Pride. 

“Excuse me?” Grantaire called to them, not obnoxiously, but loud enough to grab their attention. 

Two pairs of eyes snapped to him and Joly offered a timid smile. “We were just making plans on how to get to and from Pride.” They confirmed, fiddling ever so slightly with the bracelet containing their medical information. “We were thinking that you could ride with Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre, or with Lesgle, Chetta, and I.” 

“Oh, I’m not going.” Grantaire took a swig from the bottle of wine he had been nursing for the past half hour and one would be forgiven for assuming that he’d just admitted to shooting somebody’s grandmother in cold blood. All of the excited talking stopped abruptly, filling the Musain with an uncomfortable silence as all eyes landed on Grantaire. 

“Excuse me?” Grantaire never enjoyed hearing that phrase from Enjolras. It was usually laced with barely controlled anger and followed by a swift loss of control of said anger. Enjolras and those two words rarely went well together, so Grantaire braced himself for a shouting match that never came. Enjolras’ “excuse me” didn’t sound angry or thick with accusations and ridicule as it often did. This “excuse me” held genuine confusion and a touch of concern. 

Grantaire simply shrugged and did his best to avoid the multiple pairs of eyes that were fixated on him. “I wasn’t planning on going.” He focused on the bottom of his nearly empty wine bottle, watching how the last few sips swished whenever he tilted their container to one side over the other. 

“What?” The surprise in Enjolras’ voice was genuine and Grantaire was certain that if he looked up, he’d be met with the same level of surprise contained in startling blue eyes. Enjolras always carried his emotions in his voice and eyes. “Why? I mean-” He was always so quick to regain his composure. “If you don’t wish to attend, we all understand. I just am rather curious as to…” He trailed off. 

Grantaire rolled his eyes, feeling unwarranted frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why does there always have to be a ‘why’?” He barely managed to keep himself from snapping, fighting to maintain a calm and even tone. “Maybe I just don’t want to go.” He didn’t remove his gaze from the liquid at the bottom of the bottle. He wondered if he’d be able to float on a sea of wine. “Maybe I think that Pride is a little ridiculous.” 

“Ridiculous!” Courfeyrac seemed unable to wrap his head around the idea. “It’s Pride! It's a celebration of us!”

“Yeah, exactly.” Grantaire sighed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes again. No one seemed to grasp the point. “It’s a celebration of being different while screaming about not wanting to be treated differently. It’s oxymoronic, at best.”

“It’s not-”

“Courf, don’t.” Combeferre interrupted, his calm and soothing voice in stark contrast to his partner’s frustrated yells. He put a gentle hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder and Grantaire didn’t miss the reassuring squeeze when he risked a glance towards them. 

Courfeyrac clearly didn’t want to be finished speaking, hands balled into fists at his sides and face the dark red color it always became when he was really worked up. “But- He- Uhg, forget it.” He muttered, crossing his arms to allow Combeferre to take over. 

Combeferre nodded and didn’t remove his hand from Courfeyrac’s shoulder. He turned his attention towards Grantaire. “I never really thought of it that way.” He mused, but Grantaire had the intense feeling that he was being patronized. “You may have a bit of a point, but that isn’t the intention behind Pride.”

Grantaire shrugged and lowered his eyes again, not quite able to remember when he had taken them off of the bottle. “Intentions rarely matter.” 

Combeferre sighed heavily and Grantaire could sense his frustration, even if he was usually the best at hiding it. “Pride is a celebration not just of us.” He said slowly, clearly planning each word he would say ahead of time. “Pride is a celebration of how far we have come. It’s a celebration of the thousands of people who gave their lives so that we wouldn’t have to hide who we are. It’s a celebration of the people who were wrongly prosecuted for centuries just for existing. It’s a celebration of the people who were killed for standing up and saying that people shouldn’t be killed just because of who they love. It’s a celebration of the people who died during the AIDS epidemic because their government didn’t see them as worth saving.” He paused and Grantaire could feel his eyes burning holes in his back. “It’s a celebration of the people who even today are not allowed to openly love. It’s a celebration of those who are too afraid to come out of the closet, those who were shoved back in by family or friends, and of those who were disowned by the people who were supposed to always love them.” 

His speech was met with silence. Grantaire couldn’t hear anyone so much as breathe. He felt uncomfortable, suffocated, and embarrassed. He felt like a child who had just been lectured on why he couldn’t throw sand on the playground. He wanted to cry and he didn’t exactly know why. He just felt so suddenly ashamed of himself and ridiculously foolish. Of course, Pride had a history and a purpose. Of course, he was foolish for not realizing and embracing Pride like everyone else. 

He heard the chair beside him scrape along the floor as it was pulled out and he was dimly aware of someone taking a seat next to him. “It’s okay that you didn’t know.” Enjolras was trying so hard to be gentle, to be caring and considerate of Grantaire’s feelings. “Even with all of those things, it doesn’t make your opinion of Pride any less valid.” The blond slowly reached over to take Grantaire’s much larger hand into his own. “You don’t have to come. No one will think less of you.” He drew small patterns on the back of Grantaire’s dark hand with his thumb. “We would all love for you to come, though. Not for Pride, but just because we all love being around you and spending time with you.”

Grantaire sniffed and quickly wiped his eyes before any tears could escape, nodding slightly. “I-I’ll come.” He assured, pulling Enjolras into a hug. “I’ve never actually been. If I enjoy it, I can go next year. If I don’t, then I won’t.”

Enjolras nodded, returning the hug tightly. “That’s a fair idea.” He pulled away to brush Grantaire’s wild curls away from his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Grantaire closed his eyes and took a breath, feeling remarkably anxious, but also thinking that it might be worth it, even if it was just for his friends. 


End file.
